‘Sorry,’ I said, wiping away a final tear. ‘I don’t know what that was, or where it came from, but I needed that.’
‘Of course,’ he nodded sagely, like I hadn’t just had a meltdown in front of him. ‘You’re processing a lot right now. You know, talking about it can really help. And I just want you to know, if you need anything at all, I’m here for you.’
I considered him. He wasn’t bad-looking. In fact, he was quite attractive from a certain angle. If I just squinted my eyes a bit and pretended that he wasn’t wearing a cardigan, he was actually quite handsome.
His hand was still on my knee, and with the lightest touch, he brushed his thumb against my thigh, watching me, waiting for my reaction. I didn’t object. He pressed harder, and the pressure and heat from his fingertips was travelling through me, making me hunger for more. It felt so good to be touched, to be wanted. Maybe what I needed was right in front of me. To hell with Jake Ridley.
I leaned in towards him, ever so slowly, then stopped. Our faces were just inches apart. Did I want to do this? Did he want to? His eyes signalled a resounding yes. I parted my lips.
‘You know, you remind me so much of her.’
I stopped. A chill ran through me. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I mean, you’re so much like her. Like Amy.’
‘That’s…’ I searched for the words. Richard’s hand was still on my knee. I gently lifted it off. How did I even respond to that?
He shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry – that was a stupid, insensitive thing to say. Please, don’t hold it against me. I don’t even know where that came from…’
‘It’s OK,’ I lied. I suddenly felt very weird about Richard.
‘Did you like the roses, at least?’
The roses. Of course. Hadn’t it been obvious? I should have seen this coming.
I mustered the best smile I could manage. ‘I think you’d better be going.’
‘That was… Gosh, I am sorry.’
He followed me through to the kitchen, awkwardly shuffling around each other in the small space as I opened the door. Richard hesitated on the threshold.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said, eyes glistening. ‘I’m sorry about everything.’
The goodbye was short and clumsy, and I gently closed the door as soon as he was at a safe distance. I leaned back against it and slowly exhaled.
My phone pinged, interrupting my thoughts. It was Hannah.
I’m sorry about before. I really do need you. Not to show me what to do or tell me about any period stuff. Just to be there.
I didn’t get this girl. She was like two completely different people – Hannah in person was not the same teenager who was so communicative through her phone. Or maybe that’s how all girls her age were these days? She disappeared into her device for hours at a time. What little world had she made for herself in there?
Whatever it was, this was a window opening up to let me in. It might not have been a clear SOS, but it was a call for help from Hannah and a second chance for me to get this right. I had a great idea, and two-thirds of a bottle of good red wine to enjoy while I made it happen. Time to get to work.
I was envisioning a pamper day, Auntie Izzy-style. Lunch with champagne, nails, a facial, and a little shopping was just what I needed, and Hannah was giving me the perfect excuse. Getting your first period was a cause for celebration and she deserved a treat. It probably wasn’t what Amy would have done, but she hadn’t left a handbook on how to mother. I was going to have to do things my way.
Chapter Fourteen
The car came to pick us up at nine for the hour-long journey to Newcastle. Hannah cooed at the black Mercedes that I’d managed to hire from an executive chauffeur company at the last minute, taking a photo with her phone. The driver held the doors open for us and she climbed in, shifting nervously around in the leather seat. The smell of a freshly valeted interior was a comforting reminder of my normal life.
Our driver, Henry, had clearly missed the day of chauffeur training when they were coached in the art of being silently attentive. He jumped straight in with questions, and when he got one-word shut-downs from me, moved on to Hannah.
She told him that we were celebrating a special occasion and looked across to give me a smile. Henry yapped on about how busy the ‘town’ would be, given the great weather. He spoke with a broad Geordie accent and his cologne was far too strong for such an enclosed space. I sipped on a small bottle of water from the armrest console and willed the journey by, gazing out of the window as the countryside rolled past.
Journeys to Newcastle had always signalled big events and special occasions – school trips, visits to the theatre or museums, Christmas shopping excursions. I remembered a Saturday afternoon a lifetime ago when Amy and I had first been allowed to make the trip on our own. We’d taken the bus and spent four hours walking around, exploring in our own time, giddy with excitement and the possibility that a big city held. I’d decided then that even Newcastle was not enough – I wanted more, bigger. London, Paris, New York.
Growing up, I couldn’t wait to get away from here. Amy had told me she was coming too and I’d taken it for granted that she felt the same. I could see now how she might have said that for my benefit. She’d have done anything for me, once upon a time. Perhaps Seahouses had been enough for her all along. And maybe there was something wrong with me – after all, it’s normal to feel a desire for home. It had taken her dying wish to get me back here. And now there was a kernel of a thought, a seed of an idea deep inside me, that maybe I should have done it sooner.
Eventually, rural turned into suburbia as farmland gave way first to vast housing estates and then finally the towers and spires of the city itself. I hadn’t been to Newcastle for several years, and I asked Henry to take us on a quick tour before our first appointment. So much had changed; new buildings had sprung up everywhere and a lot of streets were no longer recognisable to me. But as we traversed the river, the Tyne’s familiar seven bridges slid into view, lined up one by one, framing the water below.
I had booked a salon the evening before, managing to get appointments for both me and Hannah to have our hair and nails done, followed by a facial. Hannah was wide-eyed as I explained this to her, even more so when I suggested she got some subtle face-framing highlights and layers cut into her hair. The salon staff spoiled her, bringing her endless treats while they glossed, buffed and trimmed her to perfection. As we were getting ready to leave, Hannah took out her phone to get a picture of her makeover and I realised that it was the longest I’d seen her go without it. She even took a selfie with me – surely the biggest compliment I was going to get.
We went to a brasserie on Grey Street for lunch – Google had suggested it was the most decent option. I ordered a martini to start and it didn’t disappoint. Hannah was delightfully unselfconscious and took photos of everything we ordered, not even attempting to be discreet. I laughed as she posed for selfie after selfie.
‘This day has been epic,’ Hannah said, her eyes bright. ‘You’re totally spoiling me, though. Betsy’s going to be so jealous.’
‘Betsy had quite enough of me last week,’ I laughed.
As I signalled to the waiter for the wine list, something outside caught Hannah’s attention.
‘Is that… Dad?’ She looked over my shoulder, squinting.
I followed her gaze. A man who looked very much like Mike was standing on the opposite side of Grey Street, beside a row of parked cars. The street was wide but even at that distance I could see it was him. He was talking to a woman in a baseball cap.
‘That’s Dad. That’s his car. What’s he doing here?’ She started to stand.
I put my hand on her arm. ‘Just wait a second.’
‘Who is he with?’
We watched and waited. The woman had her back to us but it was obvious that the pair were arguing. Mike was red-faced and jabbing his finger towards her.
‘Do you know who he’s talking to?’ I asked her. My
heart was pounding.
‘I don’t know. I can’t tell from here.’ Hannah’s voice was small. I silently willed her to stay in her seat.
‘Isn’t he supposed to be at some work thing today…?’ My voice trailed off.
‘I’m going over there,’ Hannah said, squeezing out of the booth.
‘Please, Hannah, just wait…’
I signalled to the waiter to get the bill, but Hannah was already walking out the door.
‘Dad!’ she shouted, waving.
‘Hannah, wait for me!’ I called, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice.
Two ladies at the table next to us were watching. I looked around for the waiter. What was taking so long?
Hannah was already outside the restaurant, about to cross the road. I didn’t want to let her out of my sight. I could always come back to pay… I picked up my bag and followed her out the door.
‘Hannah, wait!’ I reached out a hand to her shoulder.
A red sightseeing bus rumbled past, hissing with the exertion of climbing the steep hill, blocking our view for a few seconds. When the road cleared, Mike and the woman had gone.
‘He was right there, that was Dad,’ Hannah said, frantically scanning the street, which was busy with Saturday shoppers.
We turned at the same time to see Mike’s car turning left onto Mosely Street, disappearing from view.
‘I’m calling him. That was him. He must have heard me.’ She got out her phone and called, but there was no answer. She tried again. ‘It’s just going to voicemail. I don’t understand.’
She looked at me for an answer I couldn’t give.
We walked up Grey Street in silence, Hannah looking at her feet. Seagulls circled above us, bigger than the birds at the coast. The mood had soured, but I was determined to finish the day on a positive.
I took Hannah to Topshop and headed straight to the counter to collect the item I’d reserved online. The assistant disappeared and returned with a black leather jacket.
Hannah gasped, her eyes wide. ‘Are you serious?’
I urged her to try it on, and we headed to the changing rooms. ‘Every woman needs a black leather jacket. It goes with everything, and if you look after it, you’ll still be wearing this when you’re forty.’
She scoffed. Forty seemed ridiculously far away to her. So far in the future she couldn’t see it.
‘It’s really expensive,’ she said, stroking the butter-soft leather and admiring her reflection. ‘I don’t know…’
‘I’ve already decided for you. Besides, every time you wear it, you’ll think of your Auntie Izzy.’
I smiled at her in the mirror. She smiled back at me, but the sparkle had disappeared from her eyes.
Back in the car, even Henry was quiet.
We were heading to Mum and Auntie Sue’s, as they had invited us all over for dinner, including Rachel. I had already decided that my coping strategy was going to be to not think about the Phil thing when I was with Rachel – which would be a challenge, especially because she liked to talk about Amy so much. I wished she didn’t have to come, but I figured it was good for the kids to be around someone who was so close to their mum. I felt sick when I imagined what would happen if she ever found out what Amy and Phil had done. Or rather, when she found out. Secrets like that never stay buried for long.
Hannah sighed. ‘Maybe he didn’t hear us,’ she said, gazing out the window. ‘Or maybe it wasn’t him?’
Maybe, maybe, maybe, I thought. Maybe Mike was hiding something after all.
‘Listen,’ I said softly. ‘Don’t say anything to your dad, about this afternoon. Not just yet.’
Hannah was about to speak, I could see the question forming on her face, but we were interrupted by my phone ringing.
‘Izzy?’ It was Rachel, and she sounded frantic. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in the car with Hannah, we’re on our way back to Mum’s. What’s happened?’
‘It’s Phil,’ Rachel said, the panic rising in her voice. ‘The police came. They’ve arrested him.’
My hands trembled as I put the phone back in my bag.
‘What’s wrong?’ Hannah asked. ‘You’re as white as a sheet.’
I didn’t know where to start. My mouth had gone dry, and I was acutely aware of Henry listening in. My mouth moved but still no words came.
‘What’s wrong! Tell me!’ Hannah was frantic now.
‘Everyone’s OK. That was Rachel. The police have taken Phil in for questioning.’
‘Uncle Phil?’ Hannah’s face knotted into a question. ‘Why?’
I couldn’t see how to shelter her from this. I reached across the console and squeezed her hand.
‘Mum’s… accident. They’re just making sure that it was an accident, and not… That someone might have wanted to deliberately hurt her.’
Hannah’s hand flew up to her mouth.
‘No!’ She gasped and shook her head. ‘No, no no…’
‘I’m so sorry. But with anything like this, they need to investigate, just to make sure…’
‘But Uncle Phil? Why? No. He wouldn’t…’ Hannah’s eyes filled with tears and the words came out in gulps. ‘He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t hurt Mum. Say it’s not true?’
I caught Henry’s eye in the mirror and he quickly turned his attention back to the road. Hannah rested her head against the car window and wept softly as the sea came into view.
Rachel was at Mum’s by the time we arrived. Everyone had piled into the living room, with Auntie Sue comforting Rachel as she sobbed. Betsy and Lucas were tear-stained and dazed.
‘Oh my god, Izzy I’m so sorry; I don’t know what to do!’
Rachel crumpled into herself. I wrapped my arms around her as sobs wracked her body.
‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ I tried to soothe her. ‘We’ll figure this out.’ My head was thumping, the beat of blood loud in my ears. I looked over Rachel’s shoulder at Auntie Sue. ‘Where’s Mum?’ I mouthed. Auntie Sue gestured upwards, and gave me a look that warned me against asking more. Hannah sat down between Lucas and Betsy, pulling the pair of them into a cuddle. Betsy started to sob again.
‘And where’s Mike?’ I asked, aloud this time.
‘We can’t get hold of him,’ said Rachel, between choking, gut-wrenching sobs.
Auntie Sue sighed. ‘He isn’t picking up his phone. We’ve left messages.’ The worry was etched onto her face.
I instinctively wanted to shelter Rachel, to comfort her, and I pictured two girls holding hands across the gap between their beds, fortifying one another. Making each other whole. I held her firmly by the shoulders. ‘I’ve got you. We’ll figure this out.’
I willed her to be strong right then, at least for now, at least in front of the kids.
My mind was scrambled, but I frantically tried to think through my next steps. Where was Mike? I needed to speak to Jake. What had made the police suddenly switch their focus from Mike to Phil? Maybe they still had Amy’s phone after all, and had uncovered damning proof. And where the hell was Mum?
First things first – the children. I crouched down on the floor in front of them. Betsy slid down from the sofa onto my lap and curled her warm little body into my side.
‘Listen kids, this is horrible. There’s no other word for it. But we have to stay strong.’ I took Lucas’s hand. ‘We have to support each other.’
‘Does it mean Mummy was murdered?’ His lip trembled.
The word sent a shiver down my spine, and I was floored by fresh wave of nausea. I saw Hannah blink back new tears.
‘No, darling, it doesn’t mean that at all. We don’t know anything yet. The police just need to be sure exactly what happened to Mummy. But we shouldn’t think too much about those things.’ I tried to speak slowly and deliberately, to give the kids some reassurance that this was all normal, that everything would be fine, even though I wasn’t convinced myself.
Jake picked up on the third ring.
‘Izzy, how are you? I
was just about to call you—’
‘Couldn’t they have given us some advance warning?’ I hissed angrily.
I’d come to the back garden to get some privacy. I didn’t want any of the family to hear.
‘It doesn’t work like that. They can’t tell you before they arrest someone, for obvious reasons.’
I put a hand on the wall to steady myself. ‘What happens now?’
‘They have twenty-four hours in which to question him - thirty-six hours at most. If they can’t charge him in that time, they’ll release him.’
Arrested. They had arrested someone for Amy’s murder. The thought was like a hammer blow to my head. Even breathing became a struggle. I took shallow gulps of air and tried to focus. My head was spinning. Now everyone will find out about the affair, I thought.
‘But what about Mike? Amy and Phil having an affair means Mike had a motive on top of the money from the insurance.’
‘That’s true, but it seems some additional information has come to light.’
‘What was the new information? Can you find out?’
‘Not officially, no.’ A nervous edge had appeared in Jake’s voice. ‘But I heard a rumour. They had an anonymous tip-off.’
I heard him swallowing. Stalling. The sound of bad news stuck in his throat. I closed my eyes.
Jake sighed. ‘The loose wheel. How it might have happened. Apparently, Amy took her car to Phil’s garage for a service two days before… the incident.’
I slumped to the ground, my back against the wall and face to my knees, the phone still held up to my ear.
‘Izzy?’ Jake said quietly.
‘Yep, I’m still here.’
‘There’s nothing you can do for now. Go and be with your family. Wait it out.’
‘Rachel’s here, too,’ I said.
Silence from Jake.
‘Does she know?’ I said. ‘Does she know about Amy and… what Amy and Phil did?’
Salt Sisters Page 15